We are all builders. We may not erect any house or
temple on a city street for human eyes to see—but everyone of us builds an
edifice which God sees! Life is a building. It rises slowly, day by day,
through the years. Every new lesson we learn, lays another block on the
edifice which is rising silently within us. Every experience, every touch of
another life on ours, every influence that impresses us, every book we read,
every conversation we have, every act of our commonest days—adds something
to the invisible building. Sorrow, too, has its place in preparing
the stones to lie on the life-wall. All of life furnishes the material.

There are many noble structures built in this world. But
there are also many who build only base, shabby huts, without beauty, which
will be swept away in the testing fires of judgment. There are many, too,
whose life-work presents the spectacle of an unfinished building.
There was a beautiful plan to begin with, and the work was promising for a
little time—but after a while it was abandoned and left standing, with walls
halfway up—a useless fragment, open and exposed, an incomplete inglorious
ruin—telling no story of past splendor as do the ruins of some old castle or
coliseum—a monument only of folly and failure.

One writes: There is nothing sadder than an incomplete
ruin, one that has never been of use, that never was what it was meant to
be, about which no pure, holy, lofty associations cling, no thoughts of
battles fought and victories won, or of defeats as glorious as victories.
God sees them where we do not. The highest tower, may be more unfinished
than the lowest—to Him.

We must not forget the truth of this last sentence. There
are lives which to our eyes—seem only to have been begun and then
abandoned, which to God's eyes are still rising into more and more graceful
beauty. Here is one who began his life-work with all the ardor of youth and
all the enthusiasm of a consecrated spirit. For a time his hand never tired,
his energy never slackened. Friends expected great things from him. Then his
health gave way. The diligent hand lies folded now on his bosom. His
enthusiasm no more drives him onward. His work lies unfinished.

"What a pity!" men say. But wait! He has not left an
unfinished lifework—as God sees it. He is resting in submission at the
Master's feet, and is growing meanwhile in the Christian graces. The
spiritual temple in his soul is rising slowly in the silence. Every day is
adding something to the beauty of his character as he learns the lessons of
patience, confidence, peace, joy, love. His building in the end will be more
beautiful, than if he had been permitted to toil on through many busy years,
carrying out his own plans. He is fulfilling God's plan for his life.

We must not measure spiritual building—by
earthly standards. Where the heart remains loyal and true to Christ;
where the cross of suffering is taken up cheerfully and borne sweetly; where
the spirit is obedient, though the hands must lie folded and
the feet must be still—the temple rises continually toward finished beauty.

But there are abandoned life-buildings whose story
tells only of shame and failure. Many people begin to follow Christ, and
after a little time

turn away from their profession, and leave only a
pretentious beginning to stand as a ruin, to be laughed at by the world, and
to dishonor the Master's name.

Sometimes it is discouragement that leads men to
give up the work which they have begun. In one of his poems, Wordsworth
tells a pathetic story of a straggling heap of unhewn stones and the
beginning of a sheepfold which was never finished. With his wife and only
son, old Michael, a Highland shepherd, dwelt for many years in peace. But
trouble came which made it necessary that the son should go away to do for
himself for a while. For a time good reports came from him, and the old
shepherd would go when he had leisure and work on the sheepfold which he was
building. By and by, however, sad news came from his son Luke. In the great
dissolute city, he had given himself to evil ways. Shame fell on him, and he
sought a hiding place beyond the seas. The sad tidings broke the old
father's heart. He went about as before, caring for his sheep. To the hollow
valley he would go from time to time—to build at the unfinished sheep-fold.
But the neighbors in their pity noticed that he did little work in those sad
days.

Years after the shepherd was gone, the remains of the
unfinished sheep-fold were still there, a sad memorial of one who began to
build—but did not finish. Sorrow broke his heart—and his hand slacked.

Too often noble life-buildings are abandoned in the time
of sorrow, and the hands that were quick and skillful before grief came,
hang down and do nothing more on the temple-wall. Instead, however, of
leading us to give up our work and falter in our diligence—it should inspire
is to yet greater earnestness in all duty, and greater fidelity in all life.

Lack of faithis another cause which leads
many to abandon their life-temples, unfinished. Throngs followed Christ in
the earlier days of His ministry, when all seemed bright, who when they saw
the shadow of the cross, turned back and walked no more with Him.
They lost their faith in Him. It is startling to read how near even the
apostles came to leaving their buildings unfinished. Had not their faith
come again after Christ arose, they would have left in this world—only sad
memorials of failure, instead of glorious finished temples. In these very
days there are many who through the losing of their faith, are abandoning
their work on the wall of the temple of Christian discipleship, which they
have begun to build. Who doesn't know those who once were earnest and
enthusiastic in Christian life, while there was but little opposition—but
who fainted and failed—when it became hard to confess Christ and walk with
Him?

Sin in some form draws many a builder away from his
work—to leave it unfinished. It may be the world's fascinations,
which lure him from Christ's side. It may be evil companions, which
tempt him from loyal friendship to the Savior. It may be riches,
which enter his heart and blind his eyes to the attractions of heaven. It
may be some secret debasing lust, which gains power over him and paralyzes
his spiritual life. Many are those now amid the world's throngs—who once sat
at the Lord's Table and were among God's people. Their lives are unfinished
buildings, towers begun with great enthusiasm and then left to tell their
sad story of failure to all who pass by. They began to build—and were not
able to finish.

It is sad to think how much of this unfinished work, God
sees as He looks down upon our earth. Think of the good beginnings
which never came to anything in the end. Think of the excellent
resolutions which are never carried out, the noble life-plans entered
upon by so many young people with ardent enthusiasm—but soon given up. Think
of the beautiful visions and high hopes which might be made splendid
realities—but which fade out, with not even one earnest attempt to work them
into life.

In all aspects of life we see these abandoned
buildings. The business world is full of them. Men began
to build—but in a little time they were gone, leaving their work
uncompleted. They set out with enthusiasm—but became tired in time with the
effort or grew disheartened at the slow coming of success, and abandoned
their ideal when it was perhaps just ready to be realized.

Many homes present the spectacle of thousands of
abandoned dreams of love. For a time, the beautiful vision shone—and two
hearts tried to make it come true—but they gave it up in despair, either
enduring in misery—or going their own separate ways.

So life everywhere is full of beginnings, which
are never carried on to completion. There is not a soul-wreck on the
streets, not a prisoner serving out a sentence behind prison bars, not a
debased, fallen one anywhere—in whose soul there were not once visions of
beauty, high hopes, holy thoughts and purposes and high resolves of an ideal
of something lovely and noble. But alas! the visions, the hopes, the
purposes, the resolves—never grew into more than beginnings. God
bends down and sees a great wilderness of unfinished buildings, bright
possibilities unfulfilled, noble might-have-beens abandoned; ghastly
ruins now, sad memorials only of failure!

The lesson from all this—is that we should finish our
work, that we should allow nothing to draw us away from our duty, that we
should never become weary in following Christ, that we should persevere from
the beginning of our ideals—steadfast unto the end. We should not falter
under any burden, in the face of any danger, before any demand of cost or
sacrifice. No discouragement, no sorrow, no worldly attraction, no
hardship—should weaken for one moment our determination to be faithful unto
death! No one who has begun to build for Christ—should leave an unfinished,
abandoned life-work, to his own eternal grief!

Yet we must remember, unless we become discouraged, that
only in a relative, human sense can any life-building be made altogether
complete. Our best work on earth, is but marred and imperfect. It is
only when we are in Christ, and are co-workers with Him, that anything we do
can ever be made perfect and beautiful. But the weakest and the humblest who
are simply faithful will stand at last—complete in Him. Even the merest
fragment of life, as it appears in men's eyes, if it is truly in Christ
and filled with His love and with His Spirit—will appear finished,
when presented before the divine presence. To do God's will, whatever that
may be, to fill out His plan, is to be complete in Christ, even though we
live but a day, and though the work we have done fills no great human plan
and leaves no brilliant record among men.